


Russian Lessons

by Deastar



Series: They Say Love Heals All Wounds [10]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Psychics/Psionics, Established Relationship, M/M, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8756089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deastar/pseuds/Deastar
Summary: When he and Geno are cuddled on the couch watching a cooking show, Sid scrapes up his courage and asks, “Geno, would you… would you teach me some Russian?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during training camp for the 2015-2016 season.

After the first day of training camp, Sid takes Gonch out to dinner. They talk about Gonch’s kids for a while, then about the rookies.

Halfway through his steak, Gonch sighs and says, “I’m not going to make the roster, am I?”

Sid was expecting the question. “You might,” he says quietly. “But no, I don’t think it’s likely.”

“Well, fuck,” Gonch mutters. He makes a face at Sid. “Nobody likes to realize he’s old and slow. But these kids zipping around – I could tell.”

“Those kids zipping around need you,” Sid replies, holding Gonch’s gaze. “Take the rest of camp to get to know them. Our defense is our weak point right now, and you’ve got some of the best defensive hockey smarts I’ve ever seen. You can still stay in the game, just in a different way.”

“You mean the development job.” Gonch looks thoughtful. “They’re good kids. And honestly, I would probably stick around anyway. For Zhenya.”

“Good.”

With that settled, Sid applies himself to his own steak. Without looking up, he says, “I want to ask you if you would… if you’re staying, would you teach me Russian?”

Sid keeps his eyes on his plate for one second of silence, then two… then three… Then he cracks and looks up.

Gonch is wearing a thoroughly unimpressed expression. He says to Sid, in a withering tone, “No. I will not. Don’t be stupid.”

“Why not?” Sid asks, feeling wrong-footed.

Gonch purses his lips. “You know how happy it would make Zhenya if you ask _him_ to teach you Russian?”

Sid had thought that, too, at first – but now he’s not so sure. He keeps his eyes on Gonch’s face and asks, painfully, “Would it?”

Gonch’s expression softens, and he sighs. “It would, Sid. I know right now Russia is an open wound for Zhenya,” he says bluntly. “But it _would_ make him happy to share that part of himself with you. And the lessons will probably end with the two of you necking, more often than not,” he adds, rolling his eyes, “so if nothing else, _that_ will make him happy.”

Sid has every reason to trust Gonch’s read of the situation, but he still hesitates. Gonch wasn’t there to see the first, worst days, when the full force of his home country’s rejection had crushed Geno and left him huddled on the floor of the bedroom, too exhausted with crying to even lift himself onto the bed. Sid never wants to make him feel even a fraction of that pain. He wants to be ready to give Geno a tiny piece of home when Geno is ready to want that. But he doesn’t want to drag Geno through the process of teaching him if it will stir up all that hurt again.

Gonch sighs again, breaking into Sid’s thoughts. “How about this,” he proposes. “If you ask Zhenya and he says no, or if he says yes, but you can tell it’s making him sad, I will teach you. Good enough?”

“Good enough,” Sid agrees, relieved.

He doesn’t see the point in waiting, so after he gets back from dinner, when he and Geno are cuddled on the couch watching a cooking show, Sid scrapes up his courage and asks, “Geno, would you… would you teach me some Russian?”

Geno makes a surprised sound, but as far as Sid can tell, it’s not an _upset_ surprised sound. His impression is confirmed when Geno twists around to kiss him firmly. “Of course I teach you some Russian, Sid,” he promises, and a slow smile starts to spread across his face. “Teach you most important words first,” he continues in a lecturing tone, rearranging himself so he’s facing Sid with one leg thrown across Sid’s thighs. “Most important word, first, is _krasivy_.”

“ _Krasivy_ ,” Sid tries, the word feeling strange on his tongue.

Geno laughs a little and says fondly, “So bad accent. But I love. Not so loud, forward, Canadian – more gentle, is loving word – _krasivy_.” He traces his fingers over Sid’s lips when he says it, making Sid flush.

“ _Krasivy_ ,” Sid attempts, softer, and he thinks it sounds a little better. “What does it mean?”

Geno pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. “Take off clothes and I tell you,” he bargains, eyes twinkling.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Sid mutters—but he pulls his shirt off over his head, and when he looks back at Geno, Geno’s expression is soft, reverent.

“ _Da_ ,” Geno says, quiet, trailing a hand down Sid’s chest. “ _Krasivy_.” He leans in to kiss the hollow of Sid’s collarbone, and says into the skin there, “Means ‘beautiful.’”

“Oh,” Sid says. He flushes again, and reaches for the hem of Geno’s shirt. When he’s pulled it off, it doesn’t feel like enough, so he goes for Geno’s fly, too, and pushes down his jeans and boxers. When Geno’s whole body is bare before him, long and lovely, Sid takes his time admiring the sight before he repeats, with feeling, “ _Krasivy._ Yes.”

“So nice, Sid,” Geno says. His tone is teasing, but Sid can see a slight pink flush along the tops of his cheeks. He coughs, as if he’s embarrassed, then starts playing with the waistband of Sid’s shorts. “Next word, I think maybe you know already.” He tilts his chin down and peeks up at Sid through his lashes. “ _Khorosho_ – you know?”

Sid can’t say that he does. He leans in to nuzzle the underside of Geno’s jaw and murmurs, “Do I have to take off more clothes for you to tell me?”

“Yes,” Geno decides. Sid can hear the smirk in his voice.

Sid points out, “You’re going to have to get off my lap, then,” hoping that Geno will get back _on_ Sid’s lap after he’s stripped off – he likes having Geno splayed out over him like this, his lean legs bracketing Sid’s hips, his mouth close enough for endless kisses.

His hopes are answered when he settles back on the couch after shucking his shorts, feeling the faux-leather cool against his bare ass: Geno climbs back onto his lap and starts running his hands over Sid’s chest, Sid’s hips… everywhere _except_ Sid’s cock. “ _Khorosho_ ,” he says, sounding smug.

“Come on, Geno, what’s it mean?” Sid asks. He’s trying to pull Geno even closer, right up against Sid’s body, but Geno’s not going – he clearly has some other plan in mind.

Geno bites his lower lip and makes a big show of pondering whether or not to tell Sid, all while letting his hands wander over Sid’s newly revealed skin, greedy.

“Well, I guess I’ll put my shorts back on,” Sid says, moving as if to stand up – a hilariously empty threat, given that, even if it were physically possible for him to stand up with Geno still on his lap—a dubious proposition—there’s no way he’d ever walk away from a naked, half-hard, and flirty Geno who’s touching Sid like he doesn’t know when he’ll get the chance again.

Hurriedly, Geno says, “No, no, no. _Nyet_.” He pets Sid’s shoulders, looking down at Sid’s dick, and adds, “Too good for cover up. Is what _khorosho_ means,” he explains, with a glance up at Sid and a half-grin. “Good. Means good.”

Sid tries, “ _Khorosho_ ,” and from the expression on Geno’s face, his pronunciation is pretty terrible, but Geno kisses him anyway. He’s tender, stringing together kiss after kiss like a daisy chain, with just enough time for Sid to breathe after each one, before Geno covers his mouth again. When he pulls back, his voice is hoarse when he repeats, “ _Khorosho_ , Sid.” His eyes are hazy with desire, and his cock is fully hard now, just a tantalizing inch away from Sid’s.

“ _Khorosho_ ,” Sid agrees, dazed. Geno still won’t come as close as Sid wants him, but for now, Sid will be content with just his hands on Geno’s charmingly bony hips, and more of those kisses.

Geno leans back, though, and smirks at Sid. “One more word for you, Sid,” he murmurs, husky. “Very, very important word for you to know.”

“I don’t have any more clothes to take off,” Sid mutters, and Geno laughs.

“No more clothes, no,” he agrees. “But you don’t need. I’m tell you right away what this one means.” Leaning in close, right up to Sid’s ear, he whispers, “ _Pozhaluysta_.” Sid shivers, and his hands tighten on Geno’s hips. He likes the sound of that one. Geno explains, softly, “Means ‘please.’”

“ _Pazalta_ ,” Sid repeats – he knows he’s massacring it.

But Geno doesn’t wince. He just grins and shakes his head. “No, _nyet_ , Sid,” he says, voice low, the kind of deep that Geno’s voice only gets during sex. “You don’t say right. Need to say like you really _mean_ , Sid. So.”

Fast and graceful, before Sid realizes what’s happening, Geno slides down off of his lap and onto the ground, kneeling between Sid’s legs. He reaches out with both hands to pin Sid’s hips in place, then starts to lean in, slowly, _so_ slowly, getting close enough to Sid’s cock that Sid can fucking feel his breath on the head. And then? He _stops_.

“P-please, Geno…” Sid stammers, fixated on Geno’s lips, so close, _right_ fucking there—

“Not ‘please,’ Sid,” Geno corrects, eyes sparkling wickedly. “In Russian, Sid, is…”

 _Oh, fuck_. Sid valiantly tries to get his brain functioning properly, tries to remember the word Geno had said, but he’d only said it once, and Sid’s brain was kind of focused on other things at the time. “Uh…” He gives Geno a helpless look, but Geno doesn’t even twitch. “ _P-puzzle-ta_?” he tries.

Geno pulls back, and shakes his head, grinning. “No good, Sid,” he admonishes. “Here, I teach you better.”

He leans up close to Sid’s dick again and murmurs, “ _Po_ —” Then he curls his tongue out and licks the tip of Sid’s cock. Sid groans, tries to buck up, but Geno holds him down. He continues, “ _Zha_ ,” and then licks Sid’s dick again—so unfair, and so fucking hot—before finishing, “ _Luysta_ ,” and dragging his tongue over Sid for an extra-long, slow, final lick. Then he breathes, “ _Pozhaluysta_ ,” once more, just a half an inch away from Sid’s cock, merciless. The puff of breath on a “p” and the hissing stream of air on an “s” are things Sid has never given much thought to before, but _damn_ , he fucking well notices them now, and oh, he wants _more_ …

“ _Pozhalsta_ ,” Sid begs, desperate, knowing it’s not quite right—

But Geno’s smile goes wide and satisfied, and he says, “Yes. That’s how you say – like you _mean_ , Sid.” And with that, he finally, blessedly, parts his lips around Sid’s cock and sucks him down.

Sid basically loses all ability to express coherent verbal thoughts in _any_ language at that point.

But after, when Geno is back in Sid’s lap and moaning into his neck while Sid strokes his cock, it starts coming back to him. And it… it changes something.

Here’s the thing: whenever Geno gets close to coming, he pretty much always slips into Russian. It’s hot, for sure – Sid likes it. But at the same time, it means that Sid loses something—loses one of the guides that helps him to understand Geno and give him what he needs. It means that Sid has to rely on tone of voice and body language alone. That’s never really bothered him, because tone of voice and body language turn out to go pretty far when you’re thirty seconds from orgasm, but now…

Look, Sid still can’t understand most of it. But for the first time, tonight, when he catches a “ _Khorosho_ ,” he knows it means he’s doing good. For the first time, when Geno gasps, “ _Pozhaluysta_ , Sid, _pozhaluysta_ ,” Sid knows to ask, “What do you need, G, what can I do—” It’s a pretty amazing feeling – that even those few words can open up a window into Geno and his desires that Sid never had before. He wouldn’t have thought it was possible to feel closer to Geno than he already did, but with this new knowledge, he does. And it’s incredible.

Geno seems to like it, too – he’s aggressively affectionate the whole way up to the bedroom, and once they’ve wiped each other down, he tackles Sid into the bed and covers his face with kisses. “You like your Russian lesson, Sid?” he asks, looking thoroughly smug.

Sid rolls his eyes. “Of course I did.”

“Good.” Geno kisses Sid on the tip of his nose, still beaming. “Any time you want another ‘Russian lesson,’ you just ask,” he says, waggling his eyebrows just to make sure that Sid didn’t miss the air quotes in his tone of voice.

Dryly, Sid says, “So generous of you.” He hesitates, wondering if he should just leave it there… but he really does want more Russian lessons – that was sort of the whole point of tonight. He won’t get a better opportunity than this to ask for them. Twining his fingers around Geno’s, Sid continues, “I really liked it, G. It was great. But I wasn’t actually asking for, like, sexy Russian lessons. I want you to teach me to speak Russian for real. If you’re okay with that.”

Geno’s face immediately closes off. “Why? Why you want?” he asks, voice hard. “So you can speak when we go to Russia in summers? So you can talk to all my lots of Russian friends who come see me?” He laughs, ugly, and pulls his hands away from Sid’s, tucking them in tight against his chest like a dog curling in on itself for comfort.

Sid doesn’t take the sharpness in Geno’s voice personally – he knows it’s not really about him. “No,” he replies softly. “That’s not why.” He doesn’t try to take Geno’s hands back, but he can’t help reaching out, setting a hand on Geno’s ribs to feel their rise and fall. It gives him courage to say what he needs to say. “I want it so I can talk to _you_ ,” he says, not ashamed to hear his voice shake. “Or, I guess, it’s more that I want _you_ to be able to talk to _me_. Russian is… it’s the language you grew up with, the language you _think_ in, probably, and it’s… a part of you. A really important one. I want to know that part of you.” Geno lifts his head to look at Sid, eyes wide, and Sid holds his gaze like it’s the only thing keeping him going – which maybe it is. “I want to know _every_ part of you,” he tells Geno, and his voice is steady now – there’s nothing he could be more sure of. “I want to know every part of you, because every part of you is… is precious to me. And I don’t want to miss any of it. Not ever.”

He draws in a slow breath, keeping his eyes on Geno’s – he feels frighteningly naked, but he doesn’t regret any of it. Geno should know how precious he is to Sid. He knows Sid so well; he should know how desperately Sid wants to know him in return.

After what feels like an age, Geno’s lips part, and he says, low, “ _Ya tebya lyublyu_.”

“What?” Sid doesn’t know the words, although he thinks he may have heard Geno say them before.

“I love you,” Geno says quietly. His eyes are wet, just a little, but he looks happy. “Means ‘I love you.’”

“Oh.” Sid smiles, feeling relief wash through him like a wave. He takes a chance on reaching out for Geno’s hands again, and Geno meets him halfway, weaving their fingers together. “That’s an important one to know, for sure.”

“Most important.” Geno smiles back, a little hesitant. “I’m say a lot, okay? So you remember.”

Sid feels warm all over. “Fine by me.”

“And I’m teach you Russian,” Geno says solemnly. “I promise.”

“You don’t have to,” Sid makes sure to say. He doesn’t take Geno’s immediate bad reaction personally, but he doesn’t take it as a good sign, either, and he doesn’t want Geno to feel pressured at all. “Gonch said he would teach me if you don’t want—”

Geno’s eyebrows fly up, and then furrow down again just as quickly. “Gonch teach,” he mutters, scowling. “No, Gonch not teach – he’s good teacher, but for you, not best. _I’m_ best,” he insists. Then a sly look steals across his face, and he offers, “Give kisses when you do good. Very good teaching, yes?”

Sid snorts. “I’m pretty sure you’ll give me kisses either way.”

Geno pouts, then lets out a soft laugh. “Maybe. Still best teacher, though.”

“As long as you’re sure you want to…”

“Sure,” Geno says firmly. He hesitates for a moment, looking down at their joined hands. “I want you know me, too,” he whispers. “Even parts that hurt sometimes.”

“Thank you,” Sid whispers back. He leans in for a brief, sweet kiss, wiggling closer to the warmth of Geno’s body. “Hey, how do you say ‘I love you’ again?”

Geno’s smile is surprised, almost shy. “ _Ya tebya lyublyu_.”

Sid tries, “ _Ya tebya lublu_ ,” aware that it comes out clumsy, not minding that Geno will laugh.

But Geno settles for pursing his lips and shaking his head fondly. “So bad accent, again,” he sighs. “But you learn. I help.”

“I will,” promises Sid, sealing it with a kiss. “I will learn.”


End file.
